


The Xmas Present

by lapsang_and_earlgrey



Category: James Bond (Craig movies)
Genre: Christmas Fluff, Christmas Presents, Domestic Fluff, Food Porn, M/M, Self-Reflection, tiniest bit of angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-28
Updated: 2017-07-28
Packaged: 2018-12-06 22:53:53
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,411
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11610645
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lapsang_and_earlgrey/pseuds/lapsang_and_earlgrey
Summary: Bond's not exactly the biggest fan of Christmas but can his relationship with Q make everything better?





	The Xmas Present

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to Linorien for looking this over for me. This fic is also dedicated to the illeaadante the double 00 who wrote me that lovely poems.

[](https://www.flickr.com/photos/153276756@N08/36094483101/in/dateposted-public/)

The large, thin present has been sitting next to the aesthetically decorated tree for days and James is doing his level best not to spy his way into an early reveal.

Christmas together is a new for them, the first big celebration of their relationship. With coaxing from Q they’ve been making up their own traditions. Christmas Eve dinner with friends, lazy brunch on the day itself and boxing day for what little they have in the way of family. It was planned as a quiet, unhurried and intimate affair wholly on their terms with absolutely no turkey (Q hates it).

Of course, in the lives of 00s and Quartermasters, things never run smoothly and Bond gets called away only making it back on late on Christmas Eve. Their flat is dark when he gets there. Q would have finally gone to bed only when he knew bond was safe and on his way home.

It had caused some consternation within MI6 when they first filled in their HR paperwork. Tanner and M had tried to get Q to assign Bond another handler but Bond steadfastly refused to work with anyone else. In the end, a compromise was reached: Q was only allowed to be Bond's handler on the stipulation that he attend bi-weekly meetings with the psychologist. Bond had blustered and rolled his eyes at this but with a quiet hand on Bond's arm, Q agreed. His quiet strength was one of the things Bond love about Q.

Now he was home and the warmth and love of Q beckoned. He felt bruised, broken and drunk and had no desire to inflict that on him so he slinked off to the guest bedroom with his half empty bottle of whiskey.

 

* * *

 

Bond wakes all stiff and sore and hungover. In his post mission crash, Christmas is the last thing on his mind. In the end, the delicious smells coming from the kitchen and memories of Q’s excitement drag him from his bed. Pulling on jogging bottoms, he heads out to confront it as if it's an enemy.

'We agreed I was supposed to do that' he grumbled watching Q make breakfast. The fridge is crammed with all sorts of delicious food: cold meats from Soho, pate, proper bacon and fat little sausages from the Ginger Pig, wild smoked salmon sent down by Kincade and cheeses from Jermyn Street including that truffle filled Brie that made Q's toes curl in pleasure.

When Bond had first taken Q to Paxton & Whitfield, Bond had hand fed it to him. The noises that came from Q were almost indecent and had even made the cheesemonger blush. Bond adored that beneath the prim, if a little eccentric, exterior Q was a wanton sensualist and not just when it came to food.

'Well, you were dead to the world.' Q handed Bond a Bloody Mary as he eyed the scrapes on his forearms and cut above his eye. Q’s face filled with a mix of anguish and sympathy. ‘How are you feeling?'

'Sore, but nothing that bad, no cracked ribs, no bullet holes. Mmm, this helps though' he said raising the glass to his lips taking a long draft, 'This helps too' he pulled Q away from the work top for a kiss.

Q eventually wriggles free, wrinkling his nose. 'Bathroom Now!' He giggled 'There's a new box of that Japanese muscle soak and a bath might help with the soreness' Q pushed bond in the direction of the bathroom.

'Don t Worry I'll leave the eggs to you' he said returning to his cooking.

Bond drew himself a long bath and sat on the edge letting the scented steam envelop him while he processed the events of his mission; he'd had to kill three men not all of them cleanly. He tentatively undressed wincing as his muscles screamed in resistance.

Clearing the condensation from the mirror, he gazed at his reflection. He felt old and tired; he looked it too. God, he was a mess. His side was covered in bruises and his wrist on his right arm was swollen and tender he really needed to wrap that.

He eased himself into the too hot water hoping it would soothe the pain and memories. It helped less than he'd hoped.

This time of year always made him feel a little morose something about another year gone more lost friends and loved ones. He thought of his last Christmases with his parents. His mother took to her duties as a Lady and made Skyfall surprisingly gay and bright. The house was full of music, dancing and the smell of whiskey and roast meat, One thing that place never was though is a home and the festivities simply highlighted that turning the memories into bitter travesties.

He thought of other Christmases, his first with Kincade and the Oberhausens, thought about all the ones he'd lost Vesper, the ones he'd missed too much of a lone wolf to care.

A bright knock at the bathroom door disturb his reflection 'Need Anything?' It was Q's subtle way of checking on him 'A Top up maybe?' Bond surprisingly found he didn't mind.

'No, Fine' was the only response he gave 'urrgh' enough self pity he had a good life he had a home now, he had Q a loyal and loving partner one he never had to hide anything from. Bond watched the water slide down the plug hole and wrapped a Towel around his waist.

Shaving the last of the mission stubble off with the second pass of his straight razor he finally started to feel a bit more human. He eschewed his suits in favour of wear soft jeans, t-shirt, Chelsea boots, and a cashmere shawl collared cardigan Q had given him.

Q appeared in the doorway 'Come on' he said brightly tugging Bond into the kitchen where freshly baked bread and a tray of oven roasted tomatoes lay cooling on the sideboard 'Show me your secret; nobody does scrambled eggs like you' he beamed. ’I'll do the toast’ he said grabbing a couple of pieces of sourdough.

Bond took Duck eggs, butter, cream and chives from the fridge. He cracked all six a large bowl whisking them together adding a little salt, white pepper and cream to the mix. Popping a nob of butter into the pan to melt 'The trick is low slow heat and to finish it with a final nob of butter just before they’re completely cooked. He furiously whisked the eggs in the pan removing it from the heat before adding more butter. Q stood by him eagerly holding two plates with a single piece of toast on each. He spooned the creamy eggs on cutting chives over the top.

'Damn it, these are so good' Q said after the first mouthful 'Sometimes, Mr. Bond' Q leaned over the table for a kiss 'I think you're a devil come to tempt me and lead me astray' leaning back with a languid a cat like stretch that Bond found so damn sexy. 'Come on presents!'

Bonds Gift to Q was a pair of Cheaney's buckshot brogues that he'd had customized having a patina added by an Italian artisan. A mixture of dark blue, black and green dyes subtly blended together to create something wholly unique in Q’s favourite colours. A wide smile spread across Q's face 'Oh, James! They're gorgeous'.

'This one first I think' so this is it Bond finally gets to see what’s been hiding beneath that tasteful wrapping paper he tearing at it revealing the blue and white elegantly framed picture. Standing with the picture in both hands a bemused look passes across his face. Q comes up behind him kissing his neck and wrapping his arms around him.

“I don’t get it” this makes Q chuckle in a way that makes Bond feel warm. Peeking over his shoulder Q taps his delicate fingers on the glass drawing Bond’s attention to the legend in the corner. He reads prototype exploding pen and sees Q’s signature.

'Sorry, it’s not the real thing M would have had a fit if I’d used actual R&D budget to build my boyfriend his Christmas present.'

When he’d started their bantering flirtation he’d made many jokes out of demanding exploding pens he'd almost forgotten about them. Now Bond felt flummoxed; he never thought something so seemingly trivial could make him feel so overwhelmed, so cherished, so loved.

 

**Author's Note:**

> the food stuff, shops, and artisans mentioned in this fic are real and although I haven't used all of them personally they have come highly recommended.
> 
> This is My first fic not only for this fandom but ever so please be nice positive feedback is encouraged and constructive criticism is welcomed.
> 
> Thank you for reading


End file.
